


Rain Channel

by sundogsailor



Series: The Beasts We Keep [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Belated Reunion Sex, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is Not Nice, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M, Needy Kylo Ren, Politics, Poor Self Care, Power Bottom Hux, Power Dynamics, Trauma Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6284944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundogsailor/pseuds/sundogsailor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are not a man who breaks. You proved that,” Ren growled as the lift dropped floor after floor, fingers clenching on the rail against which he leaned. Hux didn't listen. The man was roaring now, face red.</p><p>“Would you believe that one of them said he wished it’d been him instead of me? Just to spit in Organa’s face? No one kriffing <i>wishes</i> for torture, Ren! Of all the damnable things!”<br/> </p><p>Or, all is not right after Hux's return from captivity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [Something Close to Useful](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6196270/chapters/14195170). I strongly suggest reading them in order for context and maximum impact.

After weeks of scramble, affairs finally seemed to have returned to something akin to normalcy aboard the  _Finalizer_. Hux was striding around again with his usual domineering aura, biting fewer people’s heads off now that he’d gotten more than four hours of sleep for once and no longer needed painkillers twice a day. Normal, at least, except for the burningly possessive stares Ren found himself receiving from the General whenever they crossed paths in the companionways.

Which meant, of course, it was time for the galaxy to throw another wrench into the works of Ren’s life.

That wrench was politics.

And so here he was, on the most dismal planet he’d ever seen, in the midst of a torrential rainstorm. This conference had been scheduled for months, a periodic soiree for influential First Order political supporters and other elites to mingle with the upper echelons of the military hierarchy. Real business very often did get done, but never at the expense of a multitude of socially-obligated receptions and dances and late-night revelries. He’d been spared from making more than a cursory appearance at prior iterations of the conference, but he wasn’t so lucky this time.

Technically, Ren attended to display the veracity of the Order’s powerful relationship with the Knights. Not so technically, he was acting as protection detail. After the treason in the Prindaar system, Hux had become far more cautious about personal security while in the company of those he did not know well. The arrangement chafed at Ren somewhat—he would  _never_ be subordinate to Hux—but his capture and subsequent rescue were ordeals that neither he nor Ren wished to repeat.

This first evening’s reception held at least half as many beings again as Ren had ever seen previously, arriving in from revitalized Old Empire territories and sympathetic coalitions on freshly conquered worlds. They milled about the wide stone floor of the planetary capitol’s assembly tower, pounding rain shut out by massive floor-to-ceiling windows embedded in the monumental architecture. Most attendees wore military uniform or strictly formal civilian clothes, sampling appetizers and mingling between conversation clusters in the warm light. The real business started tomorrow; this was only the initial meet and greet.

Ren could see Hux from where he leaned somberly against a thin sliver of wall between two great panes of glass, exuding enough intimidating energy to keep most people from approaching him. If anyone displayed more than passing interest, both his glower and the glistening saber hilt at his hip usually deterred them from approaching. It hung from his belt over a long black tunic in the military style, accented by a sharp-cut shoulder sash. Hux had sent a tailor to his quarters last week to measure him for the outfit with a message about how his present wardrobe was unacceptable for society functions. Ren had nearly choked the man out.

The General himself wore full dress, a far fancier version of his utilitarian everyday uniform. His greatcoat had been swapped for a silver-lined cape, beneath which shiny pins held down his collar and a double-layered sash crossed his waist. His fiery hair, as neat as ever, rested tucked up underneath a fancily angular cap. A series of medals and ribbons adorned his breast, a rare sight, as he never had reason to rely on overt insignia to be recognized for who he was. Unfortunately, to Ren’s mind, he hadn’t kept the beard. It really would have looked good on him, after a wash to get the blood out and a trim.

Hux nodded and smiled politely at something Ren couldn’t hear over the soft background music, half-turned into a small circle of diplomats and rich socialites. Because he had nothing else to do, Ren felt out with the Force until his mind settled comfortably in the back of Hux’s.

 _I must remember to meet with the ambassador from Derra IV about the coalition propaganda. Baskan Nar, as well, before the contractor meeting tomorrow. I’ll have Unamo send him a message. Hell, I wish I could throttle the Titus-Haleron company representative, wipe that pitying look off his face._ Then:  _Am I boring you, Ren? Certainly you have other ways to entertain yourself._

 _I hate parties,_  he shot back, and broke the connection.

The General graciously excused himself from the cluster, gaze cutting past several swathes of attendees to fix Ren with an icy glare before he turned and swept back towards a table of hors d’oeuvres.

Ren sighed.

“Lord Ren,” Phasma’s voice came, lighter without her chromium helmet to filter through. She sauntered up to him through the hall’s periphery, her platinum hair cropped short above her white formal uniform. “I see you have found the best place to be at the party.”

“He really is offensively good at social pandering, isn’t he,” he grumbled, accepting one of the tiny glasses of Bakuran wine she offered, his second of the night. Phasma glanced at where his gaze lingered on Hux’s back.

“Of course. It’s only expected of a man of his stature.”

“I’ll never understand people who enjoy things like this. They’re such a pain.”

“I would also prefer to be working back aboard the  _Finalizer_. But events such as these are for the good of the Order, and thus worthwhile.”

“To worthwhile pains, then.” He clinked glasses with Phasma and drank, glad to have at least one person here who he didn’t want to throttle, wish out of existence, or ignore completely. He wouldn’t call Phasma a friend—he didn’t keep friends—but he often appreciated the woman’s company despite her rigidly structured personality. Hux, on the other hand, still fell into the “throttle” category more often than not, but Ren wouldn’t have it any other way. Another worthwhile pain to toast to, he supposed wryly.

Two women came strolling by him and Phasma, both dressed finely and one tittering intimately on the arm of the other. Their eyes stuck on the tall pair where they loomed against the wall, raking over Ren’s visage before disappearing back into the throng. He wished yet again that he hadn’t been disallowed his mask, the slash of a scar on his face borne clear with his hair tied back and drawing an unwelcome number of curious whispers throughout the evening.

“I think I might need another one of these,” he grimaced, holding his now-empty crystal flute up to the light. “They’re child-sized.”

“By all means, Lord Ren. I don’t believe it’s even alcoholic,” Phasma replied. She still had half her wine left.

Ren snorted.

Hux moved to join another hub of officers and diplomats across the room, so the Knight stalked several windows down to keep lateral pace with him. He deposited the empty wine glass on the tray of a passing waiter as he went, tripping him several strides later out of petty boredom with a gentle nudge of Force. The resulting crash was only moderately satisfying. He began to run through combat katas in his head, biding the hours as the party blurred into one mind-numbing flow. He let a thread of his awareness hover near Hux, not enough for him to notice or transfer any real thoughts through, but enough that Ren felt comfortable to slip into slight inattention as he resignedly awaited the end of the reception.

A roiling burst of anger, the long-brewing kind, knocked Ren back to full responsiveness. He pushed off the wall and hesitated, unsure whether to approach the General. Anger didn’t necessarily mean danger, and he hadn’t sensed anything from the rest of the attendees. Hux answered that question for him, emerging blank faced and hard eyed from where the crowd flightily stepped out of his way. The glint of the low lights cast his uniform and facial angles into striking relief, rendering him absolutely predatory. It made Ren’s heart skip into his throat.

“We’re leaving,” Hux announced, striding past the Knight with an imposing billow of his cape. Ren fell silently in behind him. Something had set the man off, cold frustration bristling just beneath the surface. They swept out of the assembly hall to the turbolift, leaving the chatter and music behind for coolly lit halls where several guards scrambled to attention as they passed. As soon as they were alone in the lift, Hux’s composed expression broke into one of anger.

“Who offended you this time?”

The General punched their floor number viciously and whirled to face him. His heart sank.

“No one  _offended_ me, Ren. It’s all just bloody  _disrespectful_ ,” he snarled, seething. “They think I don’t notice their morbid interest or care about the inane comments! They treat me as though I’m some sort of cracked glass, like I’ll either shatter into pieces or cut their fingers when they pick me up and they don’t know which they’re more afraid of.”

“You’ll cut them no matter _what_  they do,” Ren growled as the lift dropped floor after floor, fingers clenching on the rail against which he leaned. “You are not a man who breaks. You proved that.”

“Would you believe that one of them said he wished it’d been him instead of me? Just to spit in Organa’s face?” He was roaring now, face red. “No one kriffing  _wishes_  for torture, Ren! Of all the damnable things!”

 

 

Hux’s return to the  _Finalizer_  had been discrete and quiet, a hushed flurry of medical droids and doctors and him running them through an obsessively organized self-assessment of his condition. Ren had just stood and watched from the shuttle’s ramp as they rushed him out of sight, a sigh of relief breathed silently to no one. After that he hadn’t had time to get more than a sideways word in with Hux, both of them were so busy, let alone a moment alone with the man.

The General spent his three watch cycles of post-surgical bedrest immersed in reports and strategic briefings and officer’s conferences, the medical suite transforming into a makeshift office complete with holoscreens and scurrying staff. So much of war consisted of unfortunate paperwork, apparently. His message queue became so long that he conscripted Unamo as his personal assistant to manage it, otherwise items would keep appearing faster than Hux could dismiss them. As soon as Medical cleared him he relocated the operation to his office deep within the  _Finalizer’s_  hull, located strategically equidistant between the CIC and the bridge.

Even considering the General’s usual neurotic fixation with work, it seemed unhealthy.

At least Lieutenant General Yatsuho hadn’t completely botched the extremely stressful job of being thrown unwarned into temporary command of the First Order’s entire galactic fleet. The news of Hux’s capture had spread from system to system like a fiery contagion, sparking flares of insurgency throughout regions both conquered and currently contested, forcing the Order’s resources back from the Inner Rim as they suddenly had to re-suppress prior claims. Ren had kept busy striking fear back into the hearts of their enemies, deploying three times with the Knights to particularly stubborn planets before reclaiming Hux from that dusty backwater of a bunker, and had continued after their return.

By the stars, just  _thinking_  about that day made him furious. He'd been just as livid as he'd been on Starkiller when the Resistance hauled Hux across the docking bay into their ship, the girl and her pet traitor fighting lethally to prevent him from helping him before turning tail. They'd been called back by Organa when it became clear that capturing the corvette and escaping with Hux alive had diverged into mutually exclusive objectives. She'd chosen the higher return option.

The strategic delays offered enough challenge, even without the stormtrooper problem. That, thanks almost entirely to Captain Phasma, seemed well in hand now. She’d traced the treason’s source to several radicalized cells within the Corps that had self-organized over the course of months and covertly contacted the Resistance for support. They were limited to operating on the  _Finalizer_  and a handful of other warships between which troop transfers had occurred after Starkiller’s destruction, apparently inspired by FN-2187’s defection. Ultimately, the number she’d been forced to purge hadn’t significantly affected operational capacity. Hux had remarked to Phasma that it could have been worse, which it absolutely, most certainly could have been, but Ren knew that for him personally the damage had already been done.

 

He could feel the anxiety festering under Hux’s skin in the week leading up to Snoke’s summons, splintering off of him like tiny slivers of glass. He had probed, once, catching Hux as he wondered if he had a chance in hell of retaining his rank or hide after failing the Supreme Leader a second time. The General had wheeled on him as soon as he’d felt the intrusion, pinning him up against the wall of his office with violence in his eyes.

“I am not an open file for you to read whenever you please,  _Lord Ren,_ ” he’d snarled.

Ren sneered back, but he failed to really put any bite behind it. All he could focus on were the carefully concealed circles beneath Hux’s clear eyes, obvious in such close proximity. The man eventually released him, the smattering of other officers in the room and the insistent beeping of his datapad keeping the interaction from escalating. It was almost disappointing, but not for the typical reasons. Ren didn’t really  _want_  to clash with Hux when he was like this, preoccupied and strangely un-Huxlike, defensive and acting as though nothing had happened between them in that canyon.

When the day came, the General left Snoke’s audience far more confidently than he’d entered it, new purpose in his step as he marched to where Ren waited at the chamber doors. He’d pressed him with a wordless, vicious kiss in the deserted companionway, leaving him breathing hard and hot. It had gone well, then.

Hux went immediately to the CIC to record a speech and broadcast it as far as signal could ricochet between the stars. It was a vehement, barbed thing, the verbal equivalent of an obscene gesture at Organa, her cronies, and the New Republic that backed them. It was  _see me, hear me, you cannot keep me down and I’m all the deadlier for your efforts. I am coming for you._

The old Hux had returned replete with all his self-assured arrogance and righteous wrath, he’d believed, watching the holo from his quarters and savoring the rawness of his lip. But now, standing in the lift with him shouting in his face, his body arcing off so much indignance and pain that Ren could feel it almost physically, his heart sank.

This was not the Hux he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay shit so this was originally supposed to just be a thinly veiled sexy epilogue but hoo boy did it turn into something else. It will be a slightly slower burn than the first part of the series, given that nobody starts out in mortal peril, and the rating will go up to E with the final chapter.
> 
> Chapter 2 goes up on the 20th.
> 
> As always your kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Alternatively, bother me on [tumblr](http://sundogsailor.tumblr.com/).


	2. Chapter 2

If it was possible to vibrate while standing still, Hux was doing it.

“Some of them _pity_ me, even. Pity! Of all the sycophantic things to do, that is the most absolutely tactless. Do they think I got where I am by being a pitiable man?”

“I can show them what it truly means to be pitiable, if you’d like.” Ren knew his eyes were dark, Hux’s anger becoming his own. The General ignored him, spitting into a rage that Ren hadn’t seen anything even close to in over a year. No, that was incorrect: he’d seen this, just a month ago, fresh in Hux’s memories. It had been accompanied by pain and nihilism and crushing powerlessness.

“You know who else pitied me? _Organa._ As she delivered my _death sentence_.”

“Hux.”

The lift rang, opening onto their floor. Ren squeezed his eyes shut and banged his head back against the wall before sweeping out after the General. Kriff, everything about the man from his stride to his jaw was as tight as a mis-strung bowcaster draw.

“And _don’t_ go back up there,” Hux continued with a sharp sigh, marching down the hall towards the guest suite he’d assigned himself. “You hacking half the ballroom to charred shreds would be horrible for the Order’s reputation. And mine. Kriff, I thought this conference may actually have been something _enjoyable_.”

“It’s not a conference, it’s a fancy party. Fancy parties never end well.”

“And what exactly do _you_ know about fancy parties?” He paused at his door, removing a glove to access the print scanner.

“I was dragged to enough of them as a kid to know they’re not worth the bother.”

Hux raised a mocking eyebrow. “By your mother?”

Oh he did _not._ Ren snarled and surged forward, heaving him up by the front of his impeccably starched jacket and slamming him against the metal of the door. The man just chuckled hollowly, hands coming up to Ren’s arm to steady himself.

“I’m shocked. Who would have thought you would remain so unrefined after such a childhood?”

“That woman stopped being my mother when I was _eight_ ,” he hissed. “I have no family. Or have you forgotten?”

Ren dropped him after one more shake and stalked across the barren corridor, hands clenched, tension pouring out as kinetic energy. He heard a hiss and the receding click of boots from behind him, and turned back to the suite.

Hux had left the door open.

Hell, he wished he could just storm away. Before, he probably would have. But this was now, and too much had happened in the last several months of his life. Their lives. So Ren went in.

It was an austerely sophisticated set of rooms, largely the same style as Ren’s down the hall, but more spacious for the purpose of entertaining. Hux was just sweeping out of the lounge into the bedroom, one hand holding a very full snifter of brandy poured from the set of bottles on the side table. The whole far wall consisted of a window looking out into the rain, just like everywhere else in the tower. Hux hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, leaving the space cast in grey half-shadow.

Ren leaned heavily on the chaise lounge, grip hard on the upholstery. The emotional static emanating from the other room was nearly enough to make his hair stand up. He’d seen everything when he’d punched into Hux’s deep mind on the canyon floor, afraid he’d have to kill the man and unsure whether he’d be able to do it. There had been pain, so much pain, but the worst of it had been the helplessness, being stripped down to nothing but a body until all he’d wanted was death, and even that had been denied.

That wasn’t Hux. _This_ wasn’t Hux, whatever charge cylinder had been touched off by the socialites upstairs. Well, the rage was, but not how it gripped his form and turned inwards. Hux was indomitable, proud, and infuriatingly self-assured. That was why they clashed, and why they kept coming back to each other anyway.

He wheeled around and punched the wall. It hurt.

That was a mistake. A lapse, he told himself, shaking out the hand. He didn’t need to _do_ that anymore to control his emotions. But something about this whole situation frayed his nerves, had done so ever since Hux’s return. He swept a hand through his hair, habitually undoing and redoing the tie, before going into the bedroom.

Hux stood half-turned at the center of the wall-sized window, cloak removed and folded neatly on the dresser. He cut a striking profile, silhouette stark against the slate of rain outside and the occasional flash of distant lightning, one hand resting tensely at the small of his back as he sipped from his glass. He’d already downed most of it. It was summer at this latitude, the perpetual dusk providing soft light even through heavy storm cover, lending just enough color to his form for his hair and sash to flare red and silver in turn.

“Hux.”

“Hell, Ren, what?”

“This isn’t healthy.”

Hux scoffed. “Oh that’s _rich_ , coming from you.”

Ren simply crossed his arms and leveled a look at the man.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You never drink.”

He slammed the glass down on the night stand. “How do you know?”

“Because you’re too busy to even _think_ about it. When was the last time you got more than one watch’s worth of sleep?”

“My job isn’t to be okay. It’s to run a military industrial complex spanning half the galaxy and that’s what I’m bloody well going to do.”

“Hux-“

“Leave, Ren.”

 _No_ , he sent, ghosting over the back of his mind.

“Get _out!_ ” Hux roared, whirling to face him with murder etched into his grimace. Ren actually stepped back, his expression crumpling into something wounded, the connection collapsing abortively.

Hux just kept _looking_ at him, a tremor jittering his clenched fists. Ren finally let his frustration get the best of him, or at least told himself that was what it was, and spun on his heel to stalk out of the suite with a growl.

 

 

He woke with a start, saber flying to his hand from the bedside table before his conscious brain kicked in and realized that it wasn’t anything physical that had pulled him from slumber. It had been Hux, triggering the unconscious tendril of attention Ren always kept near him since they’d arrived on planet. He checked the time, the light outside as unhelpful as ever, darkened only by the rain that seemed to be pounding down even harder than before. It was nearly 0130, well past the end of their wake cycle.

He dressed quickly, settling for a simple tunic and pants before slipping up the hall to the other suite and banging on the door.

“Hux!”

No response. He felt out with the Force, finding the man’s mind and slipping into his surface consciousness. He was still in the bedroom, keyed up but with muddled, explosive thoughts. Drunk.

_Come on, open the door, you bastard._

He felt him flinch at that, something almost like pain. Maybe he hadn’t noticed him slide into his head. Something told Ren that wasn’t quite it.

 _I’m coming in whether you open it or not,_ he sent. Hux remained silent, thoughts too mired and tiredly indistinct to make any useful sense of without going deeper. Ren retreated from his head and focused on the door mechanism, momentarily shorting out the magnetic lock with a carefully placed tug on the electronics.

His heart dropped when he saw the General, tucked into a corner on the floor. He wore nothing but his undershirt and a pair of sleep pants, both black, and the brandy snifter sat abandoned several feet away. The bottle was there too, still mostly full. Of course he’d be a lightweight. He flipped on the lights and walked over, picking the glassware up out of the way and then dropping down on his haunches. Hux lifted his head, bleary eyed, the circles beneath them darker than ever.

“Ren?”

“Come on, get up. Sit on the bed,” he ordered, grabbing his arm and practically hauling him over to it. Kriff, the man was _trembling_. He seemed to relax a little once they were both on the mattress, one hand fisting into Ren’s tunic, but then something shifted and he scooted away from him. Ren let him, gaze hanging on the multitude of pits and thin scars revealed by the short-sleeved shirt. Last he’d seen them, they’d been raw and scabrous.

“Why are you…?” Hux asked, trailing off.

“You’re going to burn out like this. That’s bad for everyone.”

“I’m the _General_. I shouldn’t be letting it get to me. Why is this _getting_ to me?” He mangled his hands into his hair, tipping over to half-curl on the sheets.

Ren reached out and grabbed his hands, pulling them out into the space between them to still him. Three of the fingers on his left were crooked, freshly mended but set too late to heal straight.

“I know what torture does to people,” he continued, slightly slurred. “I’ve _ordered_ it, so many times. I don’t regret that. I always knew what would happen if they got me but I never thought that could possibly-”

“Hux. You _beat_ them.”

“No, _you_ did. You _saw,_ Ren. You clawed inside my skull and you _saw_.”

“Come on, breathe with me, Hux.” Ren couldn’t believe he was doing this. The last thing he would ever describe himself as was a caring man, and yet here he was, trying to get Hux to do meditative breathing when he’d wanted to punch him only hours ago. He supposed that everything had its exception.

“Good. In and out. Focus on my rhythm.”

Hux was staring at him, sea green eyes fuzzy beneath the flop of his hair. Slowly, his breath stuttered into control.

“You aren’t there anymore, you’re here. They have no power over you,” Ren went on. “You never talked. You never broke.”

“I _did_ break! You saw it Ren, you _saw_ it. I wanted to _die-_ ” He started again, belligerent with the alcohol and ragingly self-loathing. Ren interrupted him.

“We’re breathing. Count to ten in your head with me. Come on.” They did, his hands latched firmly onto Hux’s lest the man try to pull away. He’d never seen him this outspoken with what he felt, another strange side of the General to process. Would he even remember this conversation tomorrow?

“You can take the pain and fear and anger you feel and turn it into something useful.”

Hux said nothing, turning his head to press his face into the sheets instead.

“Try, Hux.” Another long silence.

“The ferocity,” he finally breathed, shifting back just enough for Ren see the motion of his eyebrows knitting. “Don’t waste it.” Something seemed to click for him, whatever the strange phrasing meant.

“Ferocity works. That’s yours, now. You control it. Keep breathing with me.” He gave him a gentle squeeze. “It’s your weapon. Keep it sheathed when you don’t need it. It’s always there, but you don’t need to think about it all the time. Let it rest, and you can rest too.”

“How are you doing this?” It was a strange question, and it took Ren a moment to figure out what he meant.

“It’s part of my training. To channel things.”

He’d started doing this when met Snoke in person for the first time, back when he’d just been a gangling teen with fresh blood on his hands and lashing anger in his belly. He hadn’t truly understood it for years, venting his anger physically when it boiled over inside him. Only with the completion of his training had the mantras become something indisputably effective, his attachment to the Light having been severed once and for all. He heard it calling, sometimes, but only distantly. It had nothing to offer him now, never really did, and was thus worth only hatred and disdain.

Part of him had to admit that he saw bits of himself, an old self still too close for comfort, reflected in Hux now as he lay abjectly on the dark sheets. It was profoundly unsettling to think that he and the General might be more similar than they thought, beneath their bluster and complimentary violence. He doubted the channeling would stick for long with him, but it was better than nothing; perhaps it would be easier to manage without the Force to wrangle alongside a mental state. If he remembered any of this in the morning, that is. 

“More esoteric bantha shit,” Hux snorted faintly, but without any real conviction. His hands were warm against Ren’s own, soft and limp.

“Says the drunk.”

“’M not a drunk. I’m the _General._ ”

“Whatever you say.” Silence reigned and no response came, only even breathing. “Hux?”

The man had fallen asleep.

Ren stood, careful not to jostle the bed, shut off the light, and padded silently back to his suite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 goes up on the 22nd!


	3. Chapter 3

 

The next morning, Ren found Hux waiting outside his suite at 0800 sharp, back in standard uniform with his datapad clenched under his arm, expression and posture carefully composed.

“Hux,” he greeted, giving him an appraising look.

Hux glanced away, a brief flicker of vulnerability washing over his face before he came back to meet Ren’s eyes. Did he remember last night? If so, which parts: only the rage or the unexpected drunken softness afterwards, too? Would he even admit it if he did? Ren longed for that openness again, the lowering of his shields, something like the Hux he’d seen in the canyon. Not- not _exactly_ like that, just the good parts. The parts that had seemed to vanish since they returned to the Finalizer, buried by Hux and his demons.

“I’m fine,” Hux bit, though without anywhere near the vitriol from yesterday. He and turned on his heel to stride down the hall, not bothering to check if Ren had fallen in with him. “Work won’t wait.”

 

 

The room they entered was medium sized, windowless, and cleanly dark, with semicircles of tiered seats leading down to a presentation datastand. Most of the places were already full with an array of well-moneyed looking individuals, generally in clusters of two or three, talking quietly among themselves over documents and files. The room stilled when Hux swept down past them, Unamo and a second unfamiliar officer saluting smartly as he linked his pad to the holoprojector.

“General.”

“At ease,” he dismissed them.

Ren picked a spot against the back wall, crossing his arms and settling in. He wore the same military-style clothing as last night, but thankfully had the comfort of his typical cowl over it. A clean, untattered one, at least. Still no mask, but the deep hood helped significantly.

“Let’s begin,” Hux announced, acknowledging the audience. He slipped into his habitual authoritative speaking stance, and into his element.

“The First Order recognizes the immense value in relationships with industry and moneyed interests who share our vision for a well-regulated, orderly galaxy. As such, this morning I’ll be introducing you to a new project we’ve been developing and are ready to begin seeking resource contracts for. You are all, of course, legally obligated not to disseminate this information beyond the co-parties listed in your civilian contractor documents or donor nondisclosure agreements.” Hux paused, leveling a steely gaze across his audience. His voice went cold.

“If you renege on those agreements, we will know.”

Ah. So Hux wanted him here for more than just peace of mind, ever willing to leverage anything available to him for strategic advantage. Ren paused, rolling over how that thought had come out. Peace of mind. That probably wasn’t exactly how Hux rationalized it, but still. The man was hypervigilant.

The lights dimmed, leaving the bright shapes subsequently thrown up by the holoprojector to fill the space, enlarging at the center of the round. It was a map of the galaxy, Order-controlled space filled a soft blue and relevant planets and systems marked. Seeing the extent of their reach visualized made Ren realize just how much progress they’d made, and something like pride welled in him.

“The realities of this conflict have evolved in the past standard year,” Hux began, hands resting easily at the small of his back as he strode slowly around the display. “In order to combat the remaining Resistance holdouts, it is no longer effective to operate as an entirely conventional military force. The enemy functions opportunistically with an emphasis on guerilla tactics, seeking to eke advantage in situations where they are otherwise cornered.”

The display rotated and zoomed, focusing in at the edge of the Expansion Region and highlighting a scattering of planets.

“The First Order has countered these efforts in the past months by channeling resources to growing our own adaptive critical strike and response operations, or ACSR operations. Lord Ren has already demonstrated the efficacy of these tactics, as evidenced on Kooriva and Tarhassan among other engagements, as you may be aware.”

He felt the room shift, several of the more daring businesspeople risking glances back at his shadowed form. He nodded slightly, recognizing the acknowledgement. He allowed a small smile to twitch on his lips, pleased that Hux had openly given him credit. It was a rare occurrence.

“Based on the success of these personnel-based missions, we are prepared to move into Phase Two of our ACSR program: the development and deployment of similarly agile and diffuse offensive naval infrastructure.”

The display changed once more, a complex looking diagram rotating into focus. Not a blueprint, but just enough of a technical sketch to convey the basic construction of a menacing looking device. It was roughly conical, one end fluked out into a massive hexagonal port, and constructed of a multitude of flat panels. It appeared to be maneuverable with a set of powerful thrusters further up on the body, looking somewhat like a conventional starship but the lines portending something far different. The scale on the model put it at about twice again as long as a Resurgent-class Star Destroyer.

“This is Prototype 37,” Hux announced over the sudden flurry of fingers on datapads from the seats. “It represents several recent breakthroughs in our research on sub-hyperspace tunneling and the miniaturization of phantom energy distillation processes. While not as powerful or long-ranged as Starkiller, a small, highly mobile array of these prototypes promises to enable us to maximize the returns of our ACSR operations and take the Inner Rim, and beyond.”

A murmur ran through the room.

“This is Commander Hameen, head of our Astrophysical Ordinance Division,” Hux introduced, gesturing to the dark-skinned woman who’d been standing at parade rest beside Unamo. “She’ll walk you through some technical specifics to give you a better idea of our scope and operating potential. Please save your questions for the end.”

Hameen stepped forward and manipulated the display into a blown apart view of the weapon, numbers and specifications appearing next to relevant portions.

“For this project we’ll be taking supplier bids for a variety of wholesale products and raw materials,” she began, highlighting each category as she went. “Most important will be oscillator filaments and flux-dynamic coils and casings, as well, obviously, as various types of steel and plast. We will also, of course, gladly accept financial pledges from anyone so inclined. If you refer to the list on your right…”

She continued on, slipping into technical language that Ren has no context for. He can’t help but admire the model, spinning slowly in midair. It exudes power, both psychological and physical, promising order from chaos. He’d seen glimpses of it on occasion when he swept through Hux’s office in months prior, and heard it discussed whenever they had been called before the Supreme Leader together, but he’d never taken the time to examine it closely himself. He’d had better things to spend his time on and besides, he wasn’t an engineer.

Eventually Hameen concluded, and Hux opened the floor for questions. A slight woman in a blue jacket jumped into the conversation first. “You expressed interest in raw tetraplast, would I be correct in assuming you’ll require casting services? If so, would you be open to contracting fabrication to the provider as well?”

“No,” Hux answered. “All fabrication processes beyond specialty part assembly will be carried out internally. Next question.”

A stout man raised his hand. “What would be your maximum price point for selandium computing processors? I may be able to leverage influence on lunar Tabooni factories to drive a bargain.”

“It would be greatly appreciated as always, Baron. Unamo, if you would ping him the relevant numbers.”

They continued on. Ren closed his eyes and expanded his consciousness, surveying the flares of thoughts from the gathered contractors and honing in on those that seemed interesting. To the unfamiliar mind a surface consciousness intrusion was barely noticeable, unless he chose to make it obvious that he was straining out their thoughts.

_If we partner with the Vertask people we can force a more lucrative winning bid on the RDX discharge plates-_

_Kriff, where’s that file. I swear I saved it right here-_

_I’m hungry-_

_Yatsuho would’ve been so much easier to deal with than this upstart. I thought General Ginger was out of the way, that the Resistance had taken care of him. Bastard had it coming for his fanaticism-_

Now _that_ was interesting. Ren picked the man out and slid further into his head, dropping everyone else. He sat in the front row, back turned and face invisible, but he wore a pearly-sheened robe and had graying hair spilling loose over his shoulders.

_-don’t understand why he humors that reckless charlatan. The Order has no business dealing with cultists. They’ve only run the legacy of the Old Empire further into the ground._

Hux finished answering whatever question had just been asked, and then the long-haired man raised his hand. Ren caught the formulation of the question before it even came out of his mouth.

“What guarantee will we as contractors have that our employees will remain safe if we bid to provide services? I lost two whole shipping divisions on Starkiller Base.”

“Mr. Haleron, you are, if I may remind you, a _military_ contractor. Personnel losses should be expected as a part of standard operational costs.” Haleron. Ren knew that name: he’d been the company representative Hux had so despised at the reception yesterday, one of those who’d given him patronizingly offensive pity.

“It’s just that some of us here feel a bit _anxious_ about committing resources to an organization known for… shall we say rather _spectacular_ failures.”

Tension roiled under Hux’s shoulders, and Ren knew his mannerisms well enough to tell he was resisting the urge to pace.

“No military organization is without its growing pains, especially those large enough to currently control more than half the inhabited sectors of the galaxy,” he retorted, tone icy and dismissive. “If you are not seriously considering bidding then you may _leave_ , Mr. Haleron. No one is requiring you to be here.” Hux stepped away. “Any more questions?”

Haleron huffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

- _not worth it anymore. Too volatile of a business environment, might as well make some profit from it while I can. The Republic isn’t entirely bankrupt yet, they’d pay good money for all this._

Ren disengaged. That was all he needed. Anger stirred in his chest, and he ducked deeper into his cowl. He’d never been particularly good at schooling emotions from his face, his mouth always too expressive and his eyes too open.

“No? Well then. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, that will be all. You’ll find bid criteria and submission deadlines and sent to your datapads.”

The lights rose back to full brightness and people began shuffling their possessions together, trickling out of the chamber while ensuring they didn’t pass too close to him. Ren popped off the wall and fell in next to Hux as he strode up the steps, dismissing Unamo and Hameen to other tasks before tucking his datapad into his greatcoat.

The hall outside was more of a long foyer, lofting several clean-cut stories up and offering superbly framed views of rain-drenched misery to the west. Clusters of people milled about their business, walking briskly or conversing animatedly. Military personnel saluted as they passed.

“Hux,” Ren said, not really a question, not really a command. He swept into a deserted side corridor, the General following a pace behind him.

“Haleron is a rat,” he spat, as soon as they were secluded. “He’ll sell that information out to the Republic at his first opportunity. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he did it _today_. He needs to be eliminated.”

Hux sighed. “Do you have proof?”

“ _Proof?_ I listened as he made the decision, I saw the whole thing play out in his head.”

“You can’t kill a high-profile businessman at a _civilian conference_ just because of a _thought_ he had.”

“Can’t I? Then what did you have me there for?”

“ _No,_ ” Hux gritted, and then his tone dropped. “You think I wouldn’t dispose of him _myself_ if I could? There’s no love lost between us. We wait and we monitor until we have actionable evidence.”

“I answer to Snoke, not you. He’s a liability.”

“I _know._ But _I_ answer to the interests of the Order, which, may I remind you, is the only reason why you are where you are right now. Do not presume to make decisions about issues beyond the scope of the Knights’ interests. I distinctly recall you admitting to me once, _very_ personally, your lack of political aptitude.”

Ren frowned, unable to contest that.

“He called you an upstart. He wishes you’d never returned to command.”

“Are you defending my _honor_ now? Is that what this is about?” Hux asked accusatorially.

He gaped, caught off guard. Was this prickliness left over from when he’d shouted him out of his suite, because he remembered nothing of when he’d hauled him into bed afterwards? Or did Hux just not care? _Kriff_ he wanted to push into his head and just _know_ which it was, but then Hux would lash out at him again and everything would go even further to hell.

“I- No.”

“Well, then. There’s clearly nothing more to discuss.”

Ren shot an arm out against the wall, leaning in and blocking his path back to the hall. Hux just glared at him, real anger seeping through now instead of just frustration.

“Ren, of all the stupid things- We are in _public_ ,” he hissed, eyes flashing.

Ren opened his mouth to ask something, anything: _do you remember how I held your hands last night? Do you know how much I still miss you because you’re not really entirely here, still, not after what happened, not the Hux I searched half the galaxy and slaughtered for and caught a glorious taste of in the dusty shade that day? That we fight and we fight and that hasn’t changed but I care, damn it, yes, I care?_

Or, perhaps most burningly, _please don’t keep shutting me out like this._

But the words failed by the time they reached his lips, frozen, unable to escape his throat under Hux’s cold gaze.

“Let me _go_.” Hux slapped his arm away, storming back out to the hall and disappearing into the constant well-dressed traffic. He stared at the blank space he’d occupied for a still moment, but then rage wracked through him.

He punched the wall. And again, it hurt. This time he didn’t have the presence of mind to reprimand himself.

Something was unspooling in him, the image of Hux wedged back into that corner last night agonizing his mind like a knife wound. Haleron, at least partially, was responsible for that. The Resistance were the ones truly at fault, and what he wouldn’t give to rip into them again, but Haleron was more immediately available. And Hux wouldn’t let him _do_ anything about it.

Screw Hux’s orders. Screw whatever Snoke would make of this, his apprentice letting his emotions jump crashing out of their channel once more with attachment.

Something was going to have to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's left comments and kudos so far! And also a big thank you to the folks who've done fanart for this series. All of your feedback gives me life. 
> 
> Chapter 4 will go up in the 24th.


	4. Chapter 4

Ren spent the rest of the day shut in his suite, abandoning Hux to his business alone. The man’s hypervigilance was irrational anyway, and he couldn’t stand to play bodyguard around him for a moment longer. He slouched in his lounge with a leg up on the chair across from him, splayed wide and sullen in his worn old robes. Wearing the clothes Hux had ordered for him only made him feel unbalanced and anxious, and he didn’t need any more of that right now.

The constant dusk grated at him, completely different than the similarly standardized lighting aboard the _Finalizer_. Planets were supposed to have day and night, not wet grayness and wetter grayness. The chronometer on the wall told him it was evening again, probably time for another dinner party that he wouldn’t be missed at. His stomach would protest in a couple hours, but he had no appetite.

“Kriff,” he swore under his breath, slipping and nicking his finger with the small pocketknife he was using to scrape grime from his lightsaber’s cooling channels. He sucked the digit into his mouth, iron lacing over his tongue. There was no point in cleaning the thing, really. It would just get dirty again on his next deployment, a futile task just like everything else in his life seemed to be at the moment. He folded the blade and tossed it carelessly away onto the side table with a huff.

He sought out with the Force yet again, skimming over the several thousand consciousnesses in the tower until he found the unique signature of Haleron’s and wrapped his grip around it. The man had been in an absolutely mind-numbing meeting all afternoon and then at another reception, offering Ren absolutely nothing to act on and no moment absent from the company of others.

That was, until now. He sat up bolt straight in his chair when he felt it, the caress of an impetus for privacy coupled with the anticipation of payoff. This was it. The man was going to do it. Ren's chair skidded back as he shot to his feet, pulling on his gloves and hooking the saber back on his belt. His helmet flew into his hands as he swept out the door, clicking softly when he secured it over his face and hair and he felt indomitable again, focused on his task and shielded from prying eyes.

Ren tailed Haleron to a secluded east-facing balcony two thirds of the way up the tower, plucking location details from his mind as easily as though he were reading off the holonet. Up seven floors, two lefts. Scare off the two petty officers coming from the other direction. Straight through to the junction and head right. Pause to let him round the next corner, follow again. Turn left. Go through the exit.

The door leading outside to the balcony contracted closed behind Ren as he stalked through, the hiss drowned out by the rain. It was spacious, chunky pillars supporting its roof and a blockily carved rail ringing its edge. Haleron stood turned out towards the weather, robes swaying in the chillingly damp breeze as he tapped quickly at a datapad.

“Mr. Haleron.”

The man spun, surprise quickly shifting to fear as Ren advanced towards him.

“I believe Ms. Titus will need to find a new business partner,” he growled, the familiar modulation provided by his helmet tinging his tone with additional malice, “seeing as her current one is a liar and a spy.”

He caught his intent to run a split second before he broke for it, and lashed out a hand. Haleron trembled, locked in place, half coiled to spring away but muscles refusing to respond. Ren paced a leisurely circle around him, twirling his saber hilt in his fingers, before slowing back in front of him and casually flicking the ignition. It hummed beautifully, casting them both in its red glow and hissing with the occasional strike of stray-blown raindrops.

“What was it you called me? Oh, I remember now. A _charlatan_.”

The fear and confusion in his eyes deepened into pure terror. A pained squeak escaped his lips, all the noise the man could muster through the binding. Ren released his hold on his jaw and throat, allowing him a frantic gasp.

“I haven’t done anything-“

“Then why did you want to run?” Ren asked, reaching in and plucking the datapad from where he clutched it screen-first to his chest. A brief glance told him all he already knew, and he tossed it casually away.

“I-“ he began again, but Ren shushed him sharply. He couldn't care less about an answer.

“I’m going to enjoy this,” he purred, slowly raising the tip of the blade to hover by Haleron’s cheek. The scent of burning hair bloomed in the space between them, a severed lock dropping to the stone and the remainder singeing and curling up against his face. “I just want you to understand that this is personal. I couldn’t care less about who you’d sell the Order out to.”

“ _Personal?_ I’ve never spoken to you before in my life!”

A discharge of pneumatics snapped Ren’s attention back to the door, familiar clacking footfalls coming through onto the balcony. He struggled, unsure whether to acknowledge the new company or just finish what he’d come here to do. How had he even found them so quickly?

“Ren!”

Damn it.

He whirled around and released Haleron with a powerful shove, sending him staggering back against a pillar. Hux strode up, hands folded at the small of his back, a straight-spined counterpoint to Ren’s bloodthirsty half-crouch. Unamo lingered behind him, picking up on the tension of the situation and opting to exercise as much self-preservation as decorum would allow.

“General, this man attacked me! He slandered my name-“

“Slander implies untruth, you traitor,” Ren bit, blade still humming for blood.

“I’ve done nothing wrong! And I’m an _independent_ contractor, traitor wouldn’t even apply!”

Hux glanced back at Unamo, who’d snatched the datapad from the floor, and she simply nodded.

He cut icily in. “Oh? Well then, what would you prefer? Sellout? Unprincipled self-serving scum?” Haleron’s demeanor completely inverted again, the realization that Hux was not here as his savior plunging him into bitter aggression.

“If you aren’t going to stop this madman, then why are you here? Or do you just enjoy toying with someone you’re about to kill, you bastard?” Hux flinched slightly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. A connection clicked in Ren’s head: that hadn’t been a fluke last night.

“You know, occasionally I actually _do_ enjoy it. But now that you’ve given me probable cause, I have no obligation to keep you alive for longer than necessary. Unamo, Leave. Secure the door.”

“Yes Sir,” she stuttered, snapping to obey. Haleron watched as she disappeared back inside the tower, the man looking very much like a mouse shut in with two hungry cats: hopelessly cornered but vicious as hell.

“You’re pathetic,” he snarled. “Relying on your dog to do your dirty work.”

“I’m no one’s dog,” Ren growled, leather creaking as his free hand clenched into a brutal fist.

“No? You’ve been pattering at his heels since you landed.” Haleron turned to Hux, fixing him with a derisive look. “You know I heard a rumor that he kennels in your quarters?”

Ren snarled and slammed him up high against the pillar with a sweep of his hand, forcing his windpipe shut in fury as power surged through him. How _dare_ he. Haleron thrashed desperately, clawing at invisible fingers, mouth gaping but nothing coming out. Ren twirled his saber to readiness and let its hum vibrate through him as he stepped forward, blood thumping in his head.

“Ren!”

He ignored it the call, attention locked on the man’s slowly purpling face. Soon he’d be sliced in half. Hadn’t Hux implicitly stated that he could kill him now?

“Stop!” The general interrupted him by grabbing his outstretched arm, the unexpected contact startling Ren enough for him to jerk it down. Haleron collapsed into a gasping heap, and Ren was left helplessly staring between the two men. The General’s look was uncompromising, drilling straight past his visor and freezing him dead where he stood. There was a new spark there now too, though, something tantalizing.

“Let me deal with him,” Hux hissed, low and close and insistent.

Kriff, why could he never disobey when that set came over his features? Ren broke the hold and swirled away with a growl of frustration, reluctantly deactivating his saber and slamming it onto his belt before turning back.

“So what if he does kennel with me?” Hux was asking Haleron, advancing now toward where he slumped on the polished stone, voice impeccably smooth. “Wouldn’t you rather have a monster in your bed than at your throat? He smirked to himself, laughing silently at some private joke. “Though sometimes it’s both.”

Haleron gaped, utter disbelief on his face. Ren, astonishingly, actually sympathized with his shock. What the _hell_ was he saying?

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” Hux scolded. “I know you hold some sort of misguided pity for me, that you think I’m broken and irresponsible and unfit to lead. Who I sleep with is the least of your issues.”

“You actually- Stars, you’re _insane_.”

“Who wouldn’t be, after indefinite torture with nothing to look forward to but your own execution?” He sighed sadly. “But no. How very trite and inaccurate that would be. I’m _driven_ , Mr. Haleron. I know what I want out of this galaxy, and by the stars I am going to _get_ it, whatever it takes. Unfortunately for you, that includes your departure from it.”

A hot tingle ran down Ren’s spine. Hux looked absolutely _spectacular_ , untouchable and grand, hair tousled and greatcoat flapping gently in the gusty storm cell breeze as he pronounced death. The planes of his face held something beautiful, predatory and self-assured, channeled to lethal sharpness.

Ferocity.

Ren smiled beneath his mask. Pride swelled in him, and hunger and relief, all muddling together. _This_ was the Hux he knew, pieced back from wherever he’d been trapped.

Haleron was dragging himself back to his feet, steadying his weight with a hand on one knee.

“So, what, you knock me off personally for the glory of your empire?” he spat.

“Oh, it’s not _my_ empire. Not yet, at least.” Now Hux was smiling too, utterly chilling to see but succeeding in igniting a fire in Ren’s belly at the same time. “And don’t flatter yourself. You don’t _really_ mean anything to me, Mr. Haleron.”

“What’s that supposed to-“

“You’re just convenient.”

The blaster shot was fast, astonishingly so, muzzle discharge drowned out by the deluge. Haleron slammed back and slumped supine over the rail, water soaking the mortally charred pit in his chest where it blew in under the awning. The General smoothly holstered his pistol, stepped briskly across to the body and hefted it the rest of the way over, condemning it to fall where it would on the distant ground. If anyone ever found it in the pristine blue-gray marshes, no doubt beautiful in drier seasons, they’d be in for a gruesome sight.

Hux braced his hands on the rail and released a shuddering exhale. He seemed to sag briefly, head dropping, before he gave the stone a quick grip and pushed himself off of it. Some sort of weight had been lifted from his shoulders, leaving him freer as he moved back from the edge. He turned to Ren, expression less tense now but razor sharp control still dictating his gait.

“You never listen, you idiot.”

All the warm feelings shrank back from where they’d wrapped around his ribcage, not wanting to go but forced back anyway by the dismissiveness in his tone.

“I never listen? I just stopped him from selling out your precious plans! He was typing the comm, Unamo saw that! Or do you _want_ another Starkilller fiasco?”

“That’s not the bloody issue here!”

“Then what the hell _is?_ ” They were close now, both shouting. Hux just looked up at him for a hard-breathing moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose in consternation. For once, he seemed lost for words.

“Hux, all of that, when you killed him-“ he started, then swallowed hard. “You remember last night.”

“Yes.”

“Then you know I can _help_ with whatever all this is. Why won’t you let me stop just lurking in corners and actually _do_ something for once? _”_

“I don’t want you to _coddle_ me, Ren! Just because you’ve been there at my lowest doesn’t mean I’m incapable of solving my own problems!” The way he said _lowest_ was strained, heavy with implication. “Besides, it’s unbecoming of you. I can deal with things myself. As you can see.”

“Not all of them,” Ren countered, barely more than a vocoded murmur. “Not when you can’t just shoot them.” He never wanted to see Hux in a corner again.

“Ren, you have to understand.” Something in the General faltered for a moment. “You saw it, I know you did. The horrible powerlessness of it all.”

And then he finally _did_ understand, or at least he thought he did, the realization hitting him like a freight liner. He understood everything and _kriff_ did he feel like a blundering overprotective fool. The overwork, the snippiness and hypervigilance, his refusal to acknowledge that anything was wrong until he’d drunk himself down. Hux had been clutching at a shattered sense of agency and control by sheer force of will ever since they’d returned, all of his self-assurance thrown into question despite his reinstatement as General of the widest-reaching military force in the galaxy. And then Ren had swept in wanting to lash out at everyone who wronged him at this conference, taking that agency right out of his hands again in some sort of protectively sheltering urge.

He could have just kriffing toldhim about this, weeks ago! But then again maybe he couldn't have, not if Ren's very presence served as a reminder of his inability to save himself.

“Oh,” he breathed. It was all he could manage to get out. “Oh.”

“I still… that doesn't mean I don't want you around, Ren. I hope you know that.”

“No, I really don’t!" Frustration boiled through him again, bright and contradictingly jilted. "You’ve been shutting me out ever since we stepped foot back aboard the _Finalizer,_ just when I thought there really was something between us! You tell Haleron that we, I don’t know, that we fuck, and yet we’ve barely even _touched_ each other since then-”

And then Hux’s palm was on the cheek of his mask, solid at the edge of the eyeplate, brows furrowed and gaze searching hungrily as he bit slightly at the edge of his lip. Ren’s own hand came up to cover his fingers, something inside him breaking a little and letting that warmth curl around his bones again. He moved to trigger the release but Hux stilled him, eyes regretful for so many reasons where he looked up at him from their slight height difference.

“Don't, not now,” he said firmly, fingers sliding down to the crook of his elbow until Ren dropped his forearm. “I’ve already spent too long here, my absence will be noticed upstairs. I don’t want to go back up to that pack of sycophants but I have to.”

“Hux-”

"No. I can’t leave dramatically twice in a row. Later. I won’t be long.”

He drew away but Ren caught his hand one last time, loathe to let him go.

“I promise, Ren.” 

The man swept back inside just as the wind picked up again, tugging fitfully at Ren’s surcoat and sending it whipping about him. It felt just like how Hux pulled at him, strong and capricious and utterly unquestionable. Waiting was going to be hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shooting people isn't a healthy coping mechanism Hux, for the love of god
> 
> Last chapter on the 26th! Rating goes up to E. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	5. Chapter 5

Hux swept into his chambers, silhouette dark against the hall outside from Ren's vantage before the door slid shut, and emptied his pockets of his datapad and comm at the side table. He traced a finger along the neck of the brandy bottle but pulled away with a self-scolding expression, turning instead to survey the room. He failed see the Knight where he leaned against the wall in shadow, and turned into the bedroom with a small huff. Ren followed silently, leaning against the doorframe as the General shrugged off his overcoat and made to fold and set it on a chair by the window.

Stars, he hoped this was the right thing to do. It seemed like a solid bet, given their history.

He approached light-footed beneath the beat of the drops and slipped into his head, wrapping himself in the emotions there like they were fine silks: bright fury at some politician, a resigned background disdain, and a new sort of luscious freeness swaddled in old adrenaline and lowly thrumming want. Ren particularly liked that one. However, locked away beneath the seal of ferocity Hux had constructed like he would a starship, clean and sound and orderly, remained the fear and uncertainty and clinging powerlessness that so destroyed him. They would surge back through, Ren knew, sooner or later. Things of that sort always did. But for now, they were content to rest, and that was enough.

Right now, Hux wanted control. And Ren. And he could give them both to him. A fresh spark of indignation burst, drowning out the surprise at Ren betraying his presence.

“Hell, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of-“

And then the Knight had him spun and pressed up against the pane, forearms chilly where they braced on either side of his head, looking slightly down into half-lidded sea-green eyes. Hux held the contact, boxed in by a man that he himself had called a monster barely an hour ago and yet betraying absolutely nothing.

 _You’re beautiful like this,_ Ren sent, and Hux’s eyes widened. _I’ve wanted you for weeks, Hux. This you, the cool, vicious, steely you, who proclaims death at the drop of a pin._

"Say it out loud if you mean it.” The General’s expression darkened deliciously, recognizing the game and latching unquestioningly on.

_Is that an order?_

“Absolutely.”

Ren leaned in and inhaled against the skin of his neck, savoring the scent of generic soap twisted into something intoxicating and familiar and so very much Hux. He nipped tauntingly at the soft skin just above that perfectly regulation collar, eliciting the tiniest inhale and a hitch of the throat from the other man. Ren basked in a low rush of wonderfully blooming heat, uncertain and uncaring whether it had come exclusively from his own body or not.

“You’re radiant, General,” he purred, drawing his lips up to brush by his ear. Then, with another bite: _But I don’t take orders from you._

Hux tossed the folded greatcoat down on the chair, his movements fraught with barely held restraint, before planting a hand on Ren’s chest and shoving him viciously back. He pushed off the window, removing his hat and flicking it away with a practiced snap of his wrist.

“Are you certain about that?”

A hot shiver coiled in Ren's abdomen at the tone of those words and the undercurrent of _want_ in Hux as he delivered them, any retorts he might have made sticking fast between formation and articulation. Hux advanced on him with calculated, clicking steps, pushing him back until his calves hit the side of the bed and there was nothing he could do but ride the wave of his pounding heart as the General drew close, so close, their chests practically touching.

He knew painfully well that he really _wasn’t_ certain, every bone in his body about ready to obey any command the other man gave him. That was the whole point. But he also desperately wanted to press Hux down and take him and make him pant and scream and oh kriff, Hux had heard that, _all_ of that, oh stars.

The man’s face split into a thrillingly possessive grin, bright in the half-light.

A gloved hand came languidly up to cup Ren’s jaw, leather supple against his face and earthy tasting as Hux crushed his thumb against his lips. He groaned, his own hands flying up to grab narrow hips, only for Hux to snap his fingers into his hair and wrench back, the tie breaking and freeing it to fan over his shoulders.

“No,” he commanded, slapping Ren away. “Not until you get out of my head.”

_Hux please-_

“Please won’t help you, Ren,” he leaned in with a rumbling whisper. “Though I do _love_ hearing you say it.”

And then the General was grinding the heel of his other palm against the growing hardness at Ren’s crotch, slow and taunting, the pressure pure infuriating bliss. A keening moan escaped his throat, eyes squeezing shut and teeth mangling his lower lip in a futile shot at restraint. His knees trembled, his entire body tense as he struggled to stay upright between the bed and Hux’s off-balancing nearness.

“Don’t make me ask again.” This time, it was a growl.

Ren gave in, snapping back from Hux’s mind to fully occupy his own once more and nearly staggering at the intensified rush of physical sensation. He steadied himself on the other man’s shoulders, searching his expression for any hint of acquiescence.

“Hux-“

“Good,” the General smiled, finally releasing Ren’s hair and tipping him back onto the spring of the bed with a triumphant little shove.

Ren panted, suddenly far too hot in the center of the iridescently black sheets. He fumbled his belt free, threw his surcoat away, and attacked the familiar buttons of his tunic with desperate fingers. Hux only slipped his belt off and loosened his collar before he was on him again, a knee placed tantalizingly between his legs and his weight pushing Ren’s shoulders down. He shoved his undershirt up and ran a glove down the muscles of Ren’s torso, ghosting over a nipple and tracing beneath the curve of his ribs. Ren shivered, the cool air of the room making his hair prickle all the way from the traces across his chest down to the dark trail disappearing into his pants.

“Kriff, I missed you in bed,” he breathed, looking up into Hux’s lust-darkened eyes as the man caged him down, several strands of that perfect fiery coif hanging out of place over them. He reached up, sliding his fingers through the hair on the back of his neck until they rested comfortably at its crook. The gravity of his arm tugged him closer, but Hux didn’t comply with the abnormally gentle suggestion, not yet.

“All this, just for me,” Hux mused, dancing delicate circles with his fingertips along Ren’s waistband. “All this power, all this latent rage. Her name is Councilwoman Dahina, by the way. The politician you picked up on. Utterly appalling behavior tonight.”

Ren groaned in frustration and bucked against Hux’s leg, desperate for something, anything, more. He stilled him, a hand pressing down in firm rebuke against the crest of his hip.

“You’re mine to antagonize, Hux,” Ren rumbled. “Not theirs.”

“And you can have me,” he murmured, finally accepting the drag downwards.

Ren rose into the kiss, hot and deep and fervent and so, so good. It was all teeth and heavy lips, both hands cradling the side of Hux’s head now, keeping them pressed together until neither could get air. Ren finally had to let it break, and now the other man was breathing hard too, color creeping into his face like blood through snow.

Then, instead of Hux’s lips, his glove hovered at Ren’s mouth.

“Bite,” he ordered, and Ren did without hesitation. Hux slipped his hand out of the rich leather, then bade him to repeat the service for the other hand. He tossed both aside and sat back on his haunches over him, leaving tingling lines where he dragged his now-bare, partially crooked fingers down his chest and across his old bowcaster scar. Ren was loathe to let him sit up, but took the moment to divest himself of the rumpled undershirt.

Hux meandered lazily down his body with bites and ghosting breaths, shifting himself as he went. Ren could tell he was just as hard as he himself was, a strained tent obvious at the front of his impeccable trousers. Hux stopped when he reached Ren’s hips, carefully undoing his pants and shoving them and his underwear down around his knees. The cool air hit is erection like ice, only making him gasp louder when Hux palmed a warm, slow stroke up its underside.

“Hux,” he hitched, voice breathy with want. “Oh.” He reached out to tangle into Hux’s hair, feel his face, _something,_ but Hux merely caught his hand, nipped a kiss to the back of it, and pressed it down into the sheets. He shifted down even further, hands tracing unhurried circles over Ren’s thighs, and then, with a flick up of his gaze, took him into his mouth.

Ren gasped and arched back with pleasure, savoring each firm brush of Hux’s lips and the enveloping warm wetness. He sank into it, the rest of the world closing out around him, reduced to the plunge and pressure and laving of his tongue and oh stars he added his hand too as he brought him to full aching hardness. Ren slid one hand reflexively into his hair, the other clenching hard in the silky sheets where Hux had deflected it.

He caught a glimpse of a ghostly reflection of himself in the semi-darkened window pane, one leg half off the bed, an ethereally pale form against the beating rain beyond. It drummed at the glass, washing every pant and sound let loose in the elegant room in its sluicing rhythm. And then there was Hux, General of the First Order, one of the most powerful, ruthless men in the galaxy, nestled between his thighs and sucking him off. They weren’t simply fucking out a fight this time either, thank the stars, if the conversation on the balcony could even be called one.

He wanted to give himself to Hux entirely, show him that he understood and make up for some of the frosty disconnect that had contributed to their high-strung interactions. But at the same time he also desired, desired so, so viscerally, to claim Hux for his own in turn and enable the man to just stop for a moment. It all just seemed like something more, something germinated weeks ago from long-dormant seeds but only now surging up with fresh water. He only hoped that Hux felt the same.

He raised his head to look down at the man, their gazes meeting hungrily, and Hux did something particularly exquisite with his teeth that sent a flare rocking through his body. Ren swore and jerked up to his elbows, sweat sheening on his chest in the diffuse light. Hux released him with an agonizingly slow drag and then a lascivious smile, leaving him bereft and panting and very, very hard.

“Hux, no,” Ren keened, endlessly frustrated. This was something that would never change, the deliciously infuriating game of dominance that Hux ruled over unforgivingly until he chose to let Ren seize power from him. Ren could start the music, but never lead the dance.

“Patience, Ren,” Hux retorted, slipping languidly off the bed. “Or has all your training been for nothing?” Ren almost had half a mind to follow, to chase him and drag him back or to stop him with the Force no matter how much he would belittle him for it, but that would ruin everything, wouldn't it, and then the General was stripping off his uniform and all he could do was watch. Ren rid himself of the last of his own clothing too, scooting breathlessly further onto the soft mattress.

Hux’s skin practically glowed, his slender frame pale white and untouched by any sun in years, save for in that breezy canyon. Ren bit his lip, hard, heart thrumming as he raked over the General with his eyes: the small pits and ridges littering his limbs, the surgical incision beneath his ribs, the mess of hypertrophic scar tissue stark and red on his hip. It had all healed well. Ren reached down to grip himself, still slippery with saliva, admiring the man like one might an uncaged tiger.

“Ah ah ah,” Hux chided, advancing back onto the bed over him, settling possessively in Ren’s lap. Their erections pressed together, hot between each other’s bodies. Ren wrapped his arms around Hux’s back and Hux finally kriffing _let_ him, _finally_ allowed his fingers to drag down it and pull a hungry growl from his throat. Ren held him close, surging up to suckle beneath his jaw and Hux canted his head back, gasping at the nipping kisses Ren trailed down to his clavicles. Ren bucked when Hux matted his fingers in his hair and trapped his head close, the pressure on his dick not enough, never enough.

He wanted to be inside him more than anything else in the kriffing world.

“I need you, Hux,” he whined, breath trapped between his own mussed hair and the heat of Hux’s shoulder. “Please, just”—his voice caught as the man ground deliciously against him—“please.”

Hux _laughed_ then, startling Ren enough to pull back and search the man’s shining eyes. Hux didn’t laugh. Oh, he would chuckle and mock, but never actually laugh, bright and genuine.

Ren decided he liked it.

The General let his head go in favor of his shoulder, steadying himself with one hand as he rose up and positioned him at his entrance.

Ren licked his lips. “We don’t have any-“

“I don’t care,” Hux growled back.

He sank down, expression breathless and dark, his mouth moaning into a perfect open circle under furrowed brows. Ren gasped as Hux allowed him to take him, his body hot and tight. He was beautiful like this, hair unkempt, head thrown back, all traces of pretense lost at last.

The balance of power had shifted.

Ren snarled and bucked into him, biting at the junction of his neck and snaking fingers up to catch in the soft locks at the back of his head. It had been months, _months_ since he’d had this, _his_ Hux. He tugged and Hux yelped breathily, his spine arching and hands scrabbling desperately at Ren’s upper arms.

With a surge of motion Ren flipped them, rolling Hux onto his back and pinning his wrists on either side of his head. The man’s legs came up to cross at the small of his waist, pressing him deeper and locking him there. Ren thrusted in a barely restrained rhythm, savoring the hot drag of flesh and the sounds he pulled from him. He moaned enchantingly, half obscured by the hair swinging in Ren’s face, splayed and radiant on the inky black sheets with his lip in his teeth and dewy sweat sheening his skin.

Ren adjusted angles with a grunt and Hux nearly _screamed,_ a cry tumbling out as he bucked involuntarily, his muscles tensing briefly around Ren’s length inside him. His hands, freed as Ren had changed position, flew up to clench desperately at his shoulders and back, the pressure hot on his sweat-cooled skin. His heart leaped into his throat, beating at speed with Hux’s heavy, rasping breaths.

“Kriff, Ren, yes-” Hux panted, and something in his core tightened deliciously at the words. “Ah!”

Hux squirmed, the man trembling now as Ren kept steady at the angle that absolutely took him apart. Every lungful of air he heaved in left his throat as a gasping keen, loud and unrestrained over the beat of the rain. Ren’s own voice joined Hux’s, growling low with each thrust. He was so close now, lost in sensation and heat and the blissfully undone expression on Hux’s face beneath him. Hux dropped one hand from Ren’s back to desperately stroke his own erection, trapped and leaking between their bodies.

“Hux,” he gasped, wanting him to look at him, to see those blown green eyes completely given over to heady lust, stripped down and body heaving by his own choice. “Hux.”

Their gazes met for an endless split second before a great shudder rocked through the General, his muscles clenching exquisitely, hips bucking, head pressing back into the sheets and fingernails breaking Ren’s skin. He shouted, and whether it was Ren’s name or something else he couldn’t tell because he too trembled, world reduced to pressure and closeness and staccato thrusts until it all pushed him over the edge. A groaning cry tore from his throat, everything spasming as he spilled into Hux and finally, finally lost himself in blissful release.

Ren collapsed on top of him, utterly spent. They both panted, stickiness hot between their chests as they came down, and Ren managed to muster up the energy to plant a rare toothless kiss on the other man’s neck. Hux made a little noise and shifted his head, pushing a weak hand against Ren’s shoulder.

He acquiesced, pulling out and rolling to the side. He closed his eyes and savored the post-coital calm, sinking himself almost meditatively in the sound of the rain and the way the bed shifted under their weight.

“Kriff,” came Hux’s voice eventually. “That was…”

“Yeah.”

He reached out almost unthinkingly with his mind, slipping softly into Hux’s familiar surface consciousness. Satiety dominated, a warm blissed-out glow over the rest of his emotions, which consisted of a strange mix of ever-present background prickliness and long-awaited relief. But then a fresh pang of frustration erupted, accompanied by a shoving slap to his shoulder.

“Hell,” Hux bit out. “You’ll never stop with that, will you.” Ren turned to see him sitting up, elbows on knees and his face in his hands.

“No, probably not. Not when you’re so good at making me,” he smiled.

“You’re insufferable.” Beneath it, an unspoken question: _Why the hell do you never listen to me?_

Something clenched in Ren’s chest, and not in a good way. He slipped out of Hux’s mind and off the bed with a pained expression, casting about to find his underwear. He'd screwed it up, hadn't he, the sex had been great but he'd screwed it up in the end and now Hux hated him, really hated him, why the hell did he have to go and dip back in when he knew Hux barely tolerated it under normal circumstances-

“I should- I should go.”

Hux looked up at him as he tugged the briefs on, brows furrowed.

“Ren,” he called softly, voice tentative. “No. Stay. I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that. Just ask me first, alright? And not just about this,” he gestured, one finger at his temple.

Ren stopped, undershirt crumpled in his hands. Hux looked so small on the sheets, dirty and mussed in the way that made his heart flare with the irrational protectiveness that had gotten him in so much trouble. Hux was a ruthless, competent man, but his baser mind refused to recognize that right now.

“I- Okay.”

He tossed the shirt away and clambered back onto the bed, laying down next to Hux where he’d situated himself with a pillow beneath his head. He brought his hand up to hesitantly trace the scar on his naked hip, and Hux returned the touch by attempting to card his fingers through the fresh rat’s nest of Ren’s hair.

“Ow,” he winced, scalp pulling.

“Sorry.” It was a barely audible mumble, but Ren still caught it. He shot up on his elbow, eyes narrowing at the redhead.

“What?” Hux snipped, the moment of softness instantly subsumed by annoyance.

“Did you just _apologize?”_

“No.”

“You did!”

“Careful, or I _will_ make you leave.”

“ _You’re_ the insufferable one,” he groaned, flopping back and pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. They lay in tired silence for a while, Ren resisting the temptation to fall asleep, until Hux spoke again.

“Two more days of this conference,” he mused. “I think we’ll make it.”

When the hell had they become a _we?_ Was that what this was? It was an extremely odd thought, but definitely not a bad one, Ren decided. His simple acceptance of it would probably actually be scarier, if he bothered to think about it. He didn’t want to. He rolled over, flopping an arm over Hux’s chest in a manner both possessive and unbelievably lazy.

“Sure, General,” he mumbled. “Just let me know when you’d like to take me up on that old offer of hacking the ballroom apart.”

Hux snorted, then shifted slightly beside him. He felt a finger on his forearm, ever so light, tracing a long line down it. “Ren,” he started softly, then stopped, then started again. “Thank you. For the other night. I never said that.”

He just pulled him closer, one leg finding its way around the back of his knee.

“Ren?”

He didn’t answer, not wanting to question this right now, not any of it, just wanting to accept it and forget all his other obligations and worries and fall away into the blackness of sleep. Hux seemed to take the silence to mean what he wanted, stilling his hand to a gentle hold on Ren’s forearm, both slipping into oblivion under the beat of the rain.

 

 

Several months later, sitting at his desk in his quarters, off watch but still bent over the latest expense reports for Prototype 37 production—now named Tempest—Hux received a personal communications ping on his datapad. It was from Ren, no text, just a link to a holonet article. He pulled it up.

_BODY IN BAHSK BOGS IDENTIFIED AS FORMER CORPORATE DIRECTOR THOMMIN HALERON_

_The body found last week in Bahsk Bogs was identified today by coroners as Thommin Haleron, 64, former partner in multisystem shipping conglomerate Titus-Haleron Lines. Haleron was reported missing this summer while attending a civilian commerce conference hosted jointly by planetary officials and the First Order. Officials stated that due to advanced decomposition in wet conditions, no cause of death could be conclusively stated at this time. Similarly, no conclusions of foul play could be drawn. Titus-Haleron Lines stock dropped by 17.6 points on the Galactic Exchange after his disappearance was made public by the company._

It went on, but Hux had read enough. He typed a response to Ren:

_What a shame. Whatever shall we do without his services? Perhaps we should discuss our options in private._

Ren replied quickly:

_I’ll be over._

Hux smirked and stood languidly, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck. Expenses could wait, at least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your feedback, etc. etc. over the course of this series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. This is it for this series and my free time is about to drastically decrease for a while, but I hope to be able to continue posting shorter things here and there.


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